Please Bring Me Back to You
by IconofSelfIndulgence
Summary: AU. Thomas and Edward Courtney run off after the war. But Edward isn't exactly happy with this new life of his... Character death. Warning: homophobia.


A/N: I felt particularly dark writing this piece. I was listening to some sad music, and it just ... formed in my head. I hope it's suitable, and I hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

_Cause love is nothing to waste,_  
_And I swore,_  
_Never your heart, shall I break._  
_Wa-oh wa-oh please bring me back to you_.

Edward Courtenay was not in love. No, he would consider this desperation – the need for attention and care, and the only one who could provide it to him was a man. He was not a homosexual, nor did he reciprocate any of Thomas' feeling toward him. He had settled for the man because Barrow was the only person who showed him this kindness, who made him feel whole. Maybe that did count for something after all.

Thomas had promised him that he would talk to Dr. Clarkson, and when another soldier ended up committing suicide, Downton became a convalescent home. Edward was comfortable there, allowed to read (rather, have _Thomas_ read) all sort of books. It was really the only thing he could do besides lie there and think about the world, about his family and his brother…

The promoted Sergeant spoke words of love, finally explaining what he meant by being different, and Edward didn't turn him away for selfish reasons. Who else would want him now? No one, surely, and Thomas promised to provide him with a life when this was all over. He vowed they would run away and be happy, and then Edward kissed him and pretended that he was Margaret, his sweetheart from Oxford.

Thomas bought a small farm with his money from the war and Downton. They were far away from Yorkshire, in the countryside of Southern France. Here they could live quietly. They basically told the truth to their neighbors: Edward had been blinded in the war and Thomas, his friend and a trained medical officer, needed to live with him and take care of him. Even though Thomas never wanted to be a farmer, he found himself content like this. All he needed was Edward in the world, and all would be right. It was quite romantic, really. Ed was touched, but it didn't change the fact that he did not love Tom, no matter how much the other did for him.

He would allow Tom to touch him and would allow himself to touch Tom. There was an intimacy he needed desperately, so he kissed, touched, pulled, nipped… and explored. The first time they made love (_fucked_), Thomas lay back on the bed and let Edward do what he wanted. It was nice to finally have control over something in his life, and he cherished the moments. He very much liked that he could give Thomas what he wanted and then take it away. He was beginning to like the male body.

Maybe he would learn to love Thomas back. He had way too much time to think about it as he lay on the couch, eyes blankly staring at the darkness of what he assumed was the ceiling. He had to stay in the cottage while Thomas was working; the other was incredibly overprotective of him. Then again, it wasn't like he could go anywhere… He would have no idea where to go. He had no sense of direction anymore, so he couldn't navigate himself to the village without Thomas' help. He hated needed that crutch. He wanted to help on the farm, because he knew Thomas was not suited for farm work.

It had been nearly a year since they moved in. Edward heard the door open and sat up from the couch. "S'that you, Tom?"

"You miss me?" Thomas said. Edward could hear the smile in his voice. He imagined the other must have been tired from the day's work. Their cow had gotten sick, so he had to tend to her on top of all the other work he had to do for harvest. The urge to help him was strong, but he was useless without his sight.

He digressed, smiling in the voice's direction. Ed felt a hand in his hair, a gloved hand running fingers through it, and then felt a kiss on the top of his head. "I always do," He replied, but truth was he just felt empty.

"I'm sorry that you don't have much to do." Thomas always apologized, every day, even when he sounded exhausted as he did now. "I went to the bookshop today. Mr. Izzard said he was getting in some new braille books tonight, so I'll be heading back after dinner. Do you want to come? We could go to the pub after."

A night out? "Really? I won't be too much of a burden?"

Edward was surprised by the malice in his voice. Thomas grew silent. The former lieutenant couldn't gauge the other's feelings. He heard the shifting of feet and the clutching of something – perhaps his hat. "You're never a burden." The other man mumbled and sat next to him, placing a hand on his cheek. "I don't why you keep thinking –"

"Because that's all I do, Thomas! I sit around and bloody think all day." Edward replied, turning away from him. "And I think I'm a burden. How you manage to do this is beyond me. You work all day, and yet you still think of me. I know you must be exhausted, and yet you'll cook us dinner and then you'll drag me back out to town?"

"I don't mind." Thomas replied softly, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against Edward's neck. Hearing the man's selflessness made Edward want to love him more. "You mean everything to me. Of course you're always on my mind, silly."

"I sometimes wonder if you've found someone else in town and just spend all day with him."

"No." Thomas said, his voice sounding hurt at the accusation. "Eddie, you know there's no one else. I'm sorry if it seems I'm working later –"

"Thomas, this isn't working."

"How – why are we even – what?"

Edward turned back to him, reaching up to touch his face. "I've been lying to you, and I can't take it anymore. Here you are, dedicating your life to me… when you should be trying to find someone else."

"Stop that." Thomas took his hand.

"No. You should be, because I don't love you. I don't want this."

Thomas let go, and he could feel the other moving slightly away on the sofa. "You don't mean that…"

"Of course I do! I'm tired of this. I'm tired of living, Thomas, and doing nothing and having you _suffocate_ me. I'm not like you. I just thought I owed it to you for helping me like this –"

The floorboards creaked. Thomas had stood. "Why must you say that to me? Why must you bring this up now, after a year of this? Have I – have I done something?"

Edward didn't answer, turning his head away.

"Eddie…"

He imagined the other was crying. Was it terrible that he didn't feel remorse for this? Then again, Edward didn't feel anything. He hadn't since the war. He tried for Thomas, but enough was enough. "I can't spend the rest of my life like this."

"All of this has been a lie, then?"

Edward couldn't discern what kind of emotion was in Thomas' voice then. Was that defeat? He sounded broken. He wondered if he was crying. Breaking this man's heart wasn't something he wanted to do, not after all the help Thomas had given him, but his own heart wasn't in this. He wanted to die.

"I'm sorry."

"Where will you go?" Thomas asked, voice hoarse. "What will you do?"

"I'll figure it out."

There was another moment of silence before: "I'm still going to go get those books … think of them as a goodbye present, then."

"Thomas –"

There were footsteps away from him, and then the door slammed shut. Edward was alone. He had never felt so alone in his life, to be honest. Maybe this had been wrong, maybe he could learn to love Thomas. A year was only a short amount of time. In time, he could find love in this caring and kind man. He shouldn't have treated the other like this, not while he did so much for Ed. The blind man sighed and closed his eyes, waiting for Thomas' inevitable return.

* * *

The bookshop was not the only place that Thomas went to. He ended up in the pub, drinking to his heart's content. He felt useless for the umpteenth time in his life, and there was no changing Edward's mind. He closed his eyes, recalling this past year of peace and quiet. The other man had always been distant to him, even when they shared a bed and shared their dreams… when they became one, Edward did not seem whole-hearted in his intentions. Maybe this had all been a lie after all.

Thomas had another pint.

Leaving Downton had been the craziest idea, especially when he did have a position available to him should he want it. Instead, he took away the love of his life and became a farmer. He hated farming, hated working with his hands like this. It was a terrible job, laborious and not at all what Thomas wanted to do with the rest of his life. He had done it because hiding away with his lover was worth it, worth his poor lifestyle, if he would stay happy. But he realized that this was not at all as he planned it. He was alone again.

The tears trickled down his cheeks, and he lowered his head. What a fool he had been. Everything he did backfired and blew up in his face. How could this continuously happen to him? Did God hate him? Probably. It was because he was a homosexual, wasn't it? Thomas was not allowed happiness.

After a couple more drinks, he stumbled out of the pub with the books. His vision was blurring, and he could barely walk in a straight line. He hugged the books close to him, holding them as if they were his last lifeline. The town disappeared as he continued down the road to his farm. "We'll talk, yea'. And then maybe he'll lighten up. He just must be very alone and cooped up… I'll find 'im something to do, to keep him happy." Thomas murmured to himself, finding himself consumed by sobs as he stopped, dropping to the ground. His heart was aching. He just wanted to die. Perhaps he should have just killed himself when his father threw him out of the house all those years ago. What had happened to the cocky footman, the one who had a plan and life ahead of him? He was long gone, destroyed with a broken heart.

He heard rustling behind him. Thomas weakly turned to look behind him and saw three rather large men. Breathing heavily, he got up, taking a step back. "What do you want?" He hated how pathetic he sounded.

"A little birdie told me there was a poof in the village." The center man spoke gruffly, taking a step forward, moving closer to Thomas. "We here thought we'd take care of 'im ourselves. Don't want to get the police involved, y'know?"

Thomas threw the books at them and turned to run. He didn't get far in this intoxicated state. Two pairs of hands grabbed him from behind and held him down as fists and feet rained upon him. He cried screaming for help, but he knew no one would come. This was the fate he deserved, apparently. Each punch and kick sent a new wave of pain through him. He could barely breathe. Finally, it stopped. He was a mess of blood, curled up on the ground, feeling the dirt and blood caked in his hair, on his face. He whimpered and tried to get up.

A hand grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him up. "C'mon, boy. Lead us to your home. We want to give your f_riend_ a proper welcome."

The former footman had no choice. He tried his best to walk back to the farm, silently hoping they would leave Edward alone because of his affliction. He tried speaking, to explain of Edward's war status, but they didn't want to hear it. When they got to his place, he unlocked the door and then was thrown inside.

"Eddie – run!" He gasped out before feeling a foot on his back.

The blind man heard the door crash open and the fall. He froze in his position. Thomas' voice sounded full of pain, and was that a slight slur? Edward jumped up. "Thomas, where –"

"Come out, come out wherever you are, poof…" The leader of the group dragged Thomas in by the arm. The two cronies disappeared. The leader eyed Edward, taking note of his blank stare. Oh. Was he blind? He threw Thomas forward, watching the pathetic man curl up in a ball. "Sit." He commanded to Courtenay, placing a foot against the fallen man's side.

"We're gonna play a little game. If you can guess what I'm doing to your partner here, then I'll stop." And then he slammed his foot down, causing Thomas to yell out.

Suddenly, Edward felt a fear deep inside him. Thomas was hurt, and it was because he had been mean to him. Had Thomas not gone back out, perhaps this all could have been avoided. Then, he thought of the curse Thomas brought upon himself for being a homosexual. It wasn't right, and these men were carrying out their God-given duty to rid of him. But could he wish death upon the man who loved him so? This had been all of his fault. Thomas' screams struck a cord inside of him, and Edward found himself unable to speak. He couldn't tell what was going on, but he heard an awful _crunch_ and wondered if it was one of Thomas' limbs.

"E-Eddie…" Thomas gasped out. He wanted to tell him to run, but there was no way he could get out of here, could he? Edward was just as dead as him, and it was Thomas' fault for falling in love, for taking the other man away.

Another set of footsteps came into the room. Another crony perhaps? And then, suddenly, he heard the sickening noise of metal digging into flesh, and Thomas let out such a cry that it made Edward cry. "Stop it! What are you doing?"

The hoe dug into his leg. Thomas wanted to claw it out of his skin. He was seeing stars, and he knew what was coming. His death would be gruesome. Hell, no one would even know if he died. He'd be buried in a nameless grave, and no one would know the wiser or care. The former Corporal suddenly realized how irrelevant his life had been to many. Even Edward, if he did survive this, would forget him in time or would remember him unkindly. That made him laugh in spite of this. The hoe was ripped from his skin and held above the leader's head again.

It took seven more swings to kill Thomas. He screamed the entirety of the time and resorted to crying and begging for death at the end of it. Edward could only imagine what was going on, but it had sounded terrible, something he'd only read in a novel. The harsh breathing stopped, and there was silence. "Thomas?" He asked softly, hoping for an answer.

But his answer was a laugh. "Your _Thomas_ won't be sayin' nothin' anymore."

So Thomas was dead. Edward lamented that he could never talk to him again, apologize for being a rude and ungrateful. He could never learn to love Thomas, let alone lie again with him. He would never laugh with him, hold him… He lost his friend and caretaker. What would he do now? He was now alone, and he didn't want this. If he could, he would have turned back time. The tears streamed down his face, and he dropped off the sofa, feeling around for Thomas. His fingers touched a warm liquid and then a soaked carpet. When he reached flesh, he couldn't believe it. Edward pulled away, terrified, able to picture the image with just feeling the crevices in Thomas' skull. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he found himself whispering, trying to kiss the other man's head.

But then suddenly the hoe smacked him in the head. The pain was unlike anything he felt before, even the mustard gas burning. He waited for another hit, but it never came. Though he did smell smoke. He lie there, feeling Thomas' blood cover him. So he was to die to, to join Thomas in hell. He would be burning to death, wouldn't he? A suitable death for someone who had gone against God.

"Good riddance." The gruff man said before dropping the hoe. They left just as the flames began to consume the house. The blind man wouldn't be going anywhere, so they left him be.

Edward lie on his back, waiting for the inevitable. He thought of everything that had happened, and the things he wished could have happened before he died. It was funny that the number one thing he wanted was to know what Thomas looked like. Was he handsome, ugly? Had he been sharing bed with an awkward looking man? Thomas had been so lovely to him, and he wished he could have returned the favor.

"I'm sorry. I hope you find peace."

And finally, the flames consumed him. He laughed.

The next thing Edward Courtney felt, however, was peace. He opened his eyes and saw for the first time in years. There was someone waiting for him, a man with black hair and enchanting blue eyes, with a chiseled jaw and pointy cheekbones. He must have been very popular with all of the women, because he was incredibly handsome. Wait – he could see? Who was this man? What was this place?

"Don't fret, Edward. You'll never feel sad again here." And in that moment, Edward realized he was dead, but not only that… This man in front of him was the very Thomas Barrow.

This was a second chance to love this man, and he would use every moment of this afterlife to do just that.


End file.
